Reflections on a Prairie Dress

On Recovering Something Lost

My friend, Janet, and I had fun mocking the prairie dress trend on a recent shopping trip, the ubiquitous dresses with high necklines, bib-like collars with fringed edges, puffy sleeves, and an overabundance of flowered cotton fabrics sweeping to the ground for a remake of homestead vibe meets Anne of Green Gables meets Laura Ashley 80s. We decided to sit out the trend for now. The shopping trip left me curious about the origin of what I learned is the Batsheva dress popularized in 2016 by corporate lawyer-turned-Orthodox-homemaker, Batsheva Hay, from New York. Her brand tapped into a deep and sizable well of retro nostalgia and has grown at warp speed since then. It has become one of the most beloved emerging trends expanding into accessories and children’s clothes. What started out for me as a simple fashion question soon became a reflection on what it means to be a strong woman—and person.

The pendulum swings again. Exposed flesh had a long-run in women’s fashion. Now it’s time for something different. The prairie dress harkens back to times of old, and we are we trying to recover something lost. Is it a nostalgic fantasy? A craving for tradition? A yearning for the open skies of the West? A romanticized view of frontier women and homesteading? A desire to dress like an American Doll? Certainly, there’s a reason beyond making the statement, “I’m a prairie woman!”

I’m going with the idea that we’re nostalgic for something these women embodied. Maybe we’re trying to recover their character qualities, which are less evident in today’s instant-gratification and self-expressive culture. While the idea of a strong woman is part of the Zeitgeist, many today correlate feminine strength with sexual autonomy. We don’t have to look far to see this reflected in society. There is, however, an evident reaction to this trend worth noting. Hay claims to take “elements of symbolic restraint” to highlight “the strong and beautiful aspects of those styles while rejecting the antiquated notions of womanhood.”[1] What are the beautiful aspects of this style and the forebears who wore them?

I want to focus on the forebears, not the style itself. There are undoubtedly many answers to this question, but a significant one is that these women showed character. Prairie women were broadly speaking tenacious, brave, and resilient. While they wanted a better life, prairie women could not be certain to attain it. Faced with deprivation and threat, they were uncertain of their survival. They were forced to take risks, live in the moment, and do their best. These qualities appeal to many in our time of diminished resilience, pluck, and character.

Since these forebears could only hope for a good outcome, their focus was on qualities to help them survive each day: courage and grit. They simply had to take the next right step despite the dangers and uncertain outcomes. Like Anna in the song “The Next Right Thing” from the movie Frozen II, who decides to “Just do the next right thing/Take a step, step again/It is all I can do/ The next right thing/ I won’t look too far ahead,” these women and men didn’t often have the luxury of making decisions based on desired outcomes. Perhaps that’s a reason for their strength.

We live in pragmatic times where decisions are based more on desired outcomes than doing what’s right. We chase results because it’s more expedient, but it requires less of us: less resolve, clarity, and grit. It also produces less of us: less integrity and character. The road of least resistance produces less resilience. If we’re yearning for more character, we would do well to consider what forms character.

I turn to an earlier example for inspiration of a strong woman—and person—with similar qualities to prairie women. Esther, a fifth-century B.C. Jew living in exile in the Persian Empire, was also displaced, facing a life-or-death threat. Chosen by the tyrannical King Xerxes to be his wife, she lived in the court without revealing her Jewish roots until a genocidal plot against the Jews was sealed by Haman, the second in command. Her cousin Mordecai, who raised her, entreated her to go to the king to plead that her people be spared. Doing this without being summoned meant possible death. Her natural reluctance was overcome by Mordecai’s famous invitation: “Who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14). Esther acts without knowing the outcome; in fact, the outcome is possibly the worst possible thing. What assures her to act?  

Knowing it’s the right thing. This gives her the courage to take the next right step. This story takes an unexpected turn in which Haman ends up on the gallows he erected for Mordecai. Esther is strong, intelligent, gutsy—and beautiful too. She doesn’t wait until the fear subsides, but she works through the fear. She embodies what it means to be a woman—and person—of strong character when she pleads with the king.

How do we get the courage to take the next step? Not from figuring out the outcome. Not from eliminating risk or fear. It’s from recognizing the significance of the moment and being called to it. Kurt Warner on his debut as quarterback of the Rams said he was terrified of the challenge, but he was ready for it and stepped onto the field to face his fear. His previous setbacks created a readiness like he never had before. He became the epitome of a rags-to-riches story. Greatness often comes when uncertain outcomes meet bravery that overcomes fear. He simply did the right thing again and again until his choices and practices built a pattern.

Character strength comes from practices that create patterns of successful behavior. Don’t make decisions based on the outcome, but on what is right. This takes courage and faith. Am I promoting a false choice between character and results? No, because good results come from character choices; they are a byproduct, not a motivator of choices.

Back to prairie dresses. Maybe I’m reading too much into a fashion trend, but the reality is that millions of women buy these dresses to feel good in them. What do they feel? Nostalgia is about what’s been lost. What are they hoping to recover?

Will I continue to sit out this trend? I’m less sure now.

[1] Fisher, Molly. “The Pleasure of Sitting out a Trend.” The Cut, Feb. 5, 2019, https://www.thecut.com/2019/02/the-pleasure-of-sitting-out-the-prairie-dress-trend.html.